Say Goodbye
by The.Dragon.Singer
Summary: "Now we honor our fourth Quarter Quell; In order to fully understand the severity of the rebels' actions, District mentors must choose from the descendants of a previous victor."
1. Reaping

Fear is something rarely felt in District Thirteen.

In all the time that Bali Paradisa had been the escort for the District, not one of his tributes had ever shown the faintest amount of fear. They'd remained blank faced and had stuck to a strict schedule even during their time in the arena.

Fortunately, Bali had long gotten used to their general creepiness and was quite content to chatter like a bird. And that's exactly what he was doing.

"Ever in your favor." He chirped, and then frowned. "Ever in _your_ favor!"

He nodded then, fluffed the yolk-yellow plume that was his hair, redid the shimmering green eyeliner around his black eyes, and straightened his nearly-black dark green feather patterned suit.

Bali glanced at the Capitol stage assistant, who was dressed in a lighter green with fuchsia dyed skin. He sneered internally, and the man gestured to the stage.

Cameras were rolling in five minutes, though it wouldn't be live, as District Thirteen's Reapings were filmed three days ahead of the other Reapings.

It wasn't a mystery that most of District Thirteen's eligible tributes were all on medication to keep their raging hormones under control, and the weaning off of these drugs lasted a good three days, where they were kept in quarantine.

"Rolling in one minute, Escort Paradisa." The fuchsia man announced, pointing at the stage, where the mayor was waiting.

The mayor was male, blank-faced and pale, with dull brown eyes, dressed in white, with greying brown hair. Bali strutted onto the stage and faced the crowd of eerily blank-faced teenagers.

"Rolling~!" A camera man trilled.

"Welcome to the One Hundredth Annual Hunger Games! May the odds be _ever _in your favor! As always, I'll hand the microphone over to the mayor momentarily, but for now, please direct your attention to the television over head for the Quarter Quell announcement from our esteemed President Snow Junior."

The television blared to life and the young handsome face of the newest President appeared, his long brown hair greased away from his face, and a rose tucked into the base of the side ponytail. Glitter-coated lashes swept over his cheeks and his large mouth opened into a smile.

"Now we honor our fourth Quarter Quell; In order to fully understand the severity of the rebels' actions, District mentors must choose from the descendants of a previous victor. If there is no mentor for a District, then the escort from the Capitol may take this duty."

The screen plunged itself into darkness and the mayor then proceeded to drone through the usual speech, before handing the microphone over to Bali again.

He preened as he ushered the two victors from their seats.

"Now, from the list in my hand," Bali pulled, from his breast pocket, a piece of pale yellow paper. "Each one of you must choose a single tribute. Now, if you could, Kelvin Nesta, take a quick glance over the male side of the list and select a tribute!"

Kelvin Nesta took the list from the man with pale fingers that trembled and under his half-gaze, he scanned the list. He'd won the Eighty-Second Hunger Games, shortly after the execution of the Mocking Jay and her husband, Peeta. He'd gotten a knife to the face and had lost all vision in his left eye.

Kelvin grunted as he handed the list back and blinked several times, before growling out his tribute. "Geostroph Valeur."

A pale faced fourteen year old stood from the parallel benches and ascended the four floating glass stairs to the stage, where he took up a position beside his mentor.

"Onto the ladies!" Bali crowed. "Blaise Ryerson, the lady if you will."

* * *

Blaise Ryerson was the only person she knew who was not entirely of District Thirteen descent, except for maybe herself. Only, Blaise was second generation and she was first.

His alert grey eyes focused solely on the list, and he frowned, tugging a hand through his messy dark blue hair.

Blaise was only twenty-one, and was the Victor of the Ninety-Sixth Games. He was quite attractive, according to the Capitol people, and he worked in the "off-season" as a model, which was why his hair was blue.

He shoved the list back into Bali's hands, and focused his grey eyes on the crowd.

She flinched, and stared up at him with vivid green eyes. His eyes met hers.

"Lara Harlequin."

Her body trembled, fighting against the medication coursing through her body and she stood, remaining indifferent.

It was obvious from her pale skin and black hair that she had some District Thirteen in her, but her almond shaped green eyes and the elaborately detailed black and gold snake on her neck and right shoulder made it obvious that she was related to a Victor from one of the Districts closer to the Capitol.

"Come on up, Miss Harlequin!" Bali extended his hand, and Lara took it, ascending the stairs is the same glide-marched she'd been trained to use since she was small.

"Your tributes everyone!" Bali motioned for the two of them to shake hands. Lara stared down at the fourteen year old, and then two Peacekeepers escorted them to the two top-level rooms they'd be staying in until a hovercraft came to pick them up.

The nearest train was in District Twelve, and had been extended to include separate cars for the tributes from District Thirteen.

Bali entered the small room that housed both Lara and Geostroph, clapping his hands.

"By protocol, I'm require to inform you that the next three days will be spent weaning you off your medication. Your mentors will be staying in this room with you." Bali smoothed his shirt down. "And this year I'm required to ask who your Victor ancestry is."

"I am related to Victor Beetee." Geostroph informed, his dark eyes fixed just above Bali's left shoulder.

"Obsidian Harlequin." Lara murmured, her green eyes fixed on Blaise's back.

"_The_ Obsidian Harlequin, from District Two? He was one of my favorites!" Bali giggled, and then he glanced at the gold watch on his wrist. "I'll see you in three days."

The door behind him slid open again and Bali exited, leaving the two tributes and their mentors in the room.

It was furnished with two couches and several squishy chairs, obviously having been brought in from the Capitol. There was a stocked kitchenette to the side, and Blaise was helping himself to a glass of some alcoholic beverage.

Geostroph and Kelvin were seated on the far couch, speaking quietly.

"You want one?" Blaise offered the teen.

"I am still underage." Lara replied, folding her hands neatly in her lap as she folded herself into one of the plush chairs.

"Your loss." Blaise shrugged, and he flopped into the seat beside her. The bluenette took a long drink of whatever was in his hand and then fixed his dark chocolate eyes on her pale face. "These next few days are going to be hell for you, ya know?"

"I don't know. But I'll find out." Lara sighed.

"I know what it's like." He muttered. "It's horrible. The full-blooded Thirteens don't have as much of a problem with it, not like you will. You've noticed that you're already fighting it, right? It'll take two days for it to flush itself out of your system, and another day for you to calm down. But once it's gone, it won't work again."

"I see."

And the room went silent, save for the even breathing of all four occupants.

* * *

Bali paused by the hidden door that hid the two tributes and their mentors, listening for any sort of sound from within. It was quiet, for the most part, but the dull sound of the television floated from under the door.

The yellow-plumed man pushed the code on the pad beside the door and the white expanse of wall slid away. The room was seemingly normal at first; the white walls, white floor, dark green leather couches, and the blue plush chairs.

However, the floor on the far wall was littered with shards of glass and the foul smell of alcohol wafted from the room.

"Up, up, up!" Bali entered the room, holding a hand over his nose. "It's a big, big, big, day! The hovercraft will be here in twenty minutes, so we need to be top side in ten! Let's go!"

Lara grumbled from her position in one of the chairs, and Geostroph was followed quickly by his mentor. Blaise ran his hand through his hair, and kicked Lara's leg.

She glared at him, but shuffled from her spot and past Bali.

The escort was astounded by the change in the young woman; from marble-faced to lazy and slightly rude in three days was quite a feat. And Bali wondered, not for the first time, what exactly was in the District Thirteen medication.


	2. District Twelve

**District Twelve Escort: Erika Trinket**

District Twelve was probably the most boring place Erika had ever been. Also the dirtiest.

Erika carefully ascended the stairs to the rickety stage in her mint platform heels, and she smoothed the tutu-like skirt before stepping up to the microphone.

Her surgically altered lime-green eyes scanned the crowd, and she wanted to frown. Why her aunt _ever_ wanted to be the escort for such an unhappy face, the Captiolite would never know. And what mattered here and now was choosing the two tributes that would represent District Twelve, only to be slaughtered during the bloodbath.

Erika beamed down at the potential tributes. "Welcome! Welcome! _Happy_ Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor! Now, before we begin, we have a special message all the way from the Capitol!"

She gestured to the tall screen on her left, and kept her eyes fixed on the Hunger Games history video. It wasn't like she hadn't seen it before, but it was a better view by far than the dirty and desperately hungry teenagers.

"I just _adore _that, don't you!?" The pale-skinned, minty dressed woman moved towards the large glass bowls. "As usual, ladies first! Vick Hawthorne, if you could select our tribute?"

The dark haired, brooding man seated on the chairs off to the side stood, scowling. He shuffled his way over to the podium and bowls, both of which were fairly empty. His large hand fished inside before snatching up one of the slips.

"Thalia Inchcape." He growled out, and one of the pale faced twelve year old girls was pushed from the group. She stumbled and Vick hauled her up onto the stage.

"And the boy?" Vick snatched up the first piece of paper he touched.

"Griffin Mellark." A golden haired boy with dark gray eyes scowled from the section holding the eighteen-year-olds. If Erika had to describe the way Griffin walked, she would automatically say either he either sulked or he prowled…and not in the good way.

Erika stepped away from the podium and microphone as Mayor Rory Hawthorne stepped back to the podium, and after sharing a look with his brother, Vick, quickly read through the New Treaty of Treason.

Rory motioned to the two tributes, and the towering young man and tiny brunette shook hands. An entourage of Peacekeepers appeared from the sides of the stage and Erika motioned for Vick to follow her as the two tributes were escorted away.

Vick sneered, leaving the Capitolite in the crowd of assistants, followed closely by a heavily drunk Haymitch, who didn't look at all well in his forty-something years of age.

* * *

Pelagius Demetrious twirled one of his feather extensions between his pale-blue dipped fingers, sighing heavily. The camera man beside him, Pella had forgotten his name…again, threw the reporter a withering glare that was completely unaffected considering the man was tiny, pink and his eyes were surgically altered to seem innocent.

Pella snapped his fingers at the assistant beside him as he suddenly noticed an incoming hovercraft, baring a large thirteen on the bottom.

"Appearance check!" he puffed himself up, and the Capitolite felt the feather extensions on his head fanning themselves.

The assistant straightened Pella's skin-tight peacock blue turtleneck and then the black-and-blue pinstriped pants. "May I?" The man gestured in the direction of Pella's head. Pella nodded.

The assistant reached his fingers up and carefully reshaped Pella's blue hair and rearranged the feathers that fanned around the back of his head.

"You look excellent, Mister Demetrious." The assistant assured.

"Start rolling." Pella turned sharply on his heel and faced the camera, with a green light on the side, with a brilliantly white smile. "I'm Pella Demetrious, live in District Twelve, where I've just sighted the hovercraft from District Thirteen!"

The other reporters had taken notice of the hovercraft about three seconds after Pella did and he allowed himself a smirk.

The hovercraft landed with ease in the cleared out area next to the double-carriage train and the door slid open, revealing Bali Paradisa.

"Bali, Bali!" Pella squealed, rushing towards the man in his platform boots. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm excellent~!" Bali chuckled, subtly fluffing his yellow plume. "And the tributes from Thirteen are just fantastic!"

"District Twelve's Tributes!" Another reporter squealed and the crowd of cameras split between the two. Pella remained with District Thirteen as Bali stepped from the hovercraft. He was followed closely by Kelvin Nesta, Victor of the Eighty-Second Games.

The slight scowl on his face was enough to keep the budding reporter away from the man, and he pounced on the fourteen year old boy that followed after him.

"Young man!" Pella grinned, shoving himself in front of the boy. "How do you feel about being the tribute for Thirteen?"

"I don't." He monotoned and followed his mentor onto their part of the train.

Pella pouted and then smiled as Blaise Ryerson, one of his all time favorite tributes, exited the hovercraft, closely followed by his tribute, a girl of seventeen.

"Blaise! Blaise dear!" Pella leapt again, but Blaise stopped with a smile, having dealt with the man before. "How are you!?"

"I'm pretty good. How are you, Pella?"

"He knows my name!" Pella fanned himself, before throwing a flirtatious smile at the young woman. "Introduce me to your tribute."

"Pella, this is Lara Harlequin. Lara, this is Pella Demetrious, one of the Capitol's best reporters."

* * *

When Lara had followed Blaise from the hovercraft, she had not expected the very blue, very showy man.

"-this is Pella Demetrious, one of the Capitol's best reporters." There was an under-comment in the that sentence, one which she picked up on immediately.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Pella!" She flashed him a pearly smile, and the man swooned.

Lara had barely gotten used to Bali, who had obviously styled himself after some sort of showy bird, but Pella was a different slice of pie.

He was tanned, that was obvious, and his fingers were permanently dyed a pale blue color. His eyes were a glimmering green that was obviously surgical and his lips were painted a dark blue-black. It matched his entire outfit; silky blue turtleneck and a pair of pin-striped black-and-blue pants. His hair was possibly the most bizarre thing she'd seen; the front was dyed black, and faded into the same blue as his shirt the farther it when back, it was spiked at the front, and then at the back of his head, was a fan of foot-long blue-green eye feathers that looked as though they belonged to a peacock, which was rumored to be a rare lab-bred pet for the richest in District One and the Capitol.

To have styled himself after such a vain bird...Lara mentally shook her head.

"I have to say, your mentor is one of my favorites, and I can tell, you're well on your way to being one too! What's it like in District Thirteen?"

"Very white, very orderly, and very very clean." Lara sighed.

"I obviously haven't seen the recaps," Pella rolled his eyes and leaned in. "So, I've been wondering, who's your Victor?"

"My father is one of the Victors from District Two, and I'm pretty sure it's obvious. I mean, my last name isn't really that common."

"I'm going to take a wild stab at it...and say that your father is Obsidian Harlequin!" Pella squealed, following the mentor-tribute pair as they headed towards the train.

"That's my Daddy." She grinned, and stopped.

Glaring down at her was the male tribute for District Twelve. He was tall, easily six feet, with shaggy blond hair and cold gray eyes. His mouth was drawn into a white line as he attempted to intimidate her.

Lara raised an eyebrow, stepped closer and smirked. "You wanna go, pretty boy?"

The eighteen-year-old's eyes widened and he gulped before hurrying onto his train.

"That's what I thought." She rolled her eyes.

"Let's go, Lara. The train's gonna leave." Blaise extended a hand to help her on the train.

"Lara, what's your strategy?!"

"What's your favorite weapon!?"

"What do you think your score will be!?"

"Lara, if you win-"

Blaise nudged her subtly, and as the train started to roll from the station, the raven merely gave a mysterious smirk, and then winked before vanishing into the train.

* * *

"What the fuck was that!?" Griffin demanded, stomping into District Twelve's dining car. The little brunette girl, Thalia, flinched, but continued putting food into her mouth at a rapid pace.

"Da faq was what!?" Haymitch slurred, waving a bottle in one hand and a muffin in the other. He belched and looked surprised, but then continued drinking.

Vick growled. "What was what?"

"The chick from Thirteen! What the fuck was that about!?"

Vick's scowl deepened. "Don't worry about it."

"Haymitch, really," Erika lifted her fingers to her nose, pinching a mint lace hanky between them. "Is drinking necessary in front of our tributes. Go to your room, please."

The blond man stumbled from his seat and past the young woman, with a scowl. As the automatic door slid shut, Haymitch toppled over.

The little girl started to stand, but Erika waved her back down. "Leave him dear, one of the Avox's will get him."

"You gonna start giving us some tips on how to survive." Griffin narrowed his eyes at the single sober mentor they had.

"Two things. One: Stay alive. Two: Whatever you do...don't underestimate District Thirteen and don't trust anyone, especially them."

"Riiiiight. Why is that exactly?" Griffin crumbled a cookie to dust and went to town on a slice of apple-berry pie.

"They don't have any feelings what-so-ever, and they won't think once about stabbing you in the back." Vick snarled, leaning back in his chair after snatching up Haymitch's half-empty bottle of scotch.

"Isn't that saying '_Won't think twice'_?" Thalia asked, fiddling with the edge of her dress as all the attention was suddenly on her.

"Exactly." Vick snorted. "But they won't think once. They'll just do it."

"Right." Griffin rolled his eyes. "Thanks. Real detailed."

"Don't get smart with me, boy." Vick slammed the bottle back on the table before storming out.

"Ass."Griffin Mellark sneered, stabbing his pie.

Erika sighed, rubbing the bridge of her delicate nose.

It was going to be a long train ride.

* * *

"Try the pie!" Geostroph crowed as Lara entered the dining car. "It's so good!"

Lara chuckled, taking a slice for herself.

Geostroph had acted unemotional outside simply because that's what most District Thirteen tributes did. It had worked well for them for years. He had still been weaned off the anti-emotion medication and was only fourteen.

He was allowed to be childish.

Blaise grinned, taking some of her pie. "Is this green apple pie? This is my favorite!"

"It's so good!"

Kelvin appeared suddenly, dropping into the fourth open chair with a small glass of ice and liquor. "Let's get down to business,"

Geostroph's expression calmed immediately.

"Were either of you trained?"

Geostroph nodded. "I've been attending the Academy since I was ten. I've had four years of training."

"What about you?" Blaise looked at his tribute. She smirked.

"I started training when I was five, in District Two. My mother is a political ambassador for District Thirteen, and she would leave me with my father on extended visits. I started at the Academy when I was eight."

"Thirteen years of training?" Blaise looked impressed, and Geostroph flinched away from her.

"Excellent." Kelvin nodded to both of them. "Better than last years. Any special weapons?"

"I like bows, and traps." The boy puffed himself up. "I'm a decent shot."

"Decent will get you killed. That's the first thing you work on."

"And you?" Blaise quirked one of his blue eyebrows.

"I like my blades. Throwing stilettos, long daggers; you name a blade, I can probably use it."

"Oh, this is going to be fun. Throw this." He handed her a butter knife.

"And you want me to throw it at a wall?" She rolled her eyes. "No. You stand with your shoulder against the wall, a strawberry on your head, and blindfold me...then maybe I'll throw it."

Blaise regarded her with hard eyes, grabbed a strawberry and pulled off his tie.

"Alright."

* * *

Bali hummed as the dining room door slid open...and then he stopped dead.

"What is going on!?" He shrieked, running for the blindfolded Lara, who was holding a butter knife. Blaise had his shoulder against the wall, and a strawberry balanced on his lips.

Kelvin stopped the escort with an outstretched arm.

"We're seeing if she's as good as she says."

"By having her throw knives at the Capitol's best looking Victor! I'll be killed if his looks are damaged."

"I won't miss." Lara snorted. "As long as you shut up."

Bali clapped his hands over his mouth, and rocked back and forth on his heels, watching the young woman intently.

Even with his eyes fixed on her, Bali barely saw her move, save for the flash of silver in the air and then the sudden thump of it hitting something. The escort squealed, covering his eyes.

"He's dead isn't he? Or worse! Disfigured!"

"The strawberry is dead." Blaise sounded impressed, and Lara peeled off his tie.

"I told you I wouldn't miss."

"Why don't you go to your rooms? We have planning to do."

* * *

Lara fell not-so-gracefully onto her bed, after dropping her standard issue white dress to the ground, followed quickly by the rest of her things from District Thirteen.

The bed felt like clouds, if a bed could feel that way and that was what clouds felt like, which she was sure they did. It was warm and soft, and she sank several inches into the mattress.

Groaning, Lara rolled off the bed and onto the floor, nuzzling her face into the plush green carpet before she headed for the bathroom on two feet.

The bathroom was tiled in various shades of greens and blues and tiny flecks of white. The towels that hung from the warming rack were fluffy and a pale green, and the soap bar on the counter was sculpted into a roaring serpent with wings.

Since she was already naked, Lara stepped into the shower and pressed several of the buttons. It wasn't unfamiliar to her at all; District Thirteen had showers like these.

When she stepped out, she smelt quite nicely of honey and almonds, and was dried quickly.

The closet was quickly programed to give her a pair of sleeping clothes; a pair of green silk shorts and black cotton t-shirt.

The silk was smooth between her fingers, almost like water and the cotton was comfy. Lara fell back into the bed and climbed beneath the covers. Her fingers dug into the top of the mattress and she stretched her feet towards the bottom, popping her back.

However, as she did, her nails slammed against some sort of control panel, and the bed began to let off a light heat. Lara grinned, hugging one of the pillows and curling around it.

"Goodnight me."

* * *

**Those of you who wish to know...**

**I'm looking for several mentors, tributes and escorts, possibly Capitolites as well. **

**So this is a SYOTMEC...or a Submit Your Own Tribute Mentor Escort or Capitol person...**

**PM me with yours...or find my forum. That works too. **


End file.
